


and i shall never write again

by Scarlett_Rogue



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Himbo Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Misunderstandings, poet jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Rogue/pseuds/Scarlett_Rogue
Summary: Two months ago, Jaskier burst into their dorm and declared that he'd never write again, for his muse has hurt him for the last time. But this is clearly the poet's handwriting, and who the hell is Julian Pankratz?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 254





	and i shall never write again

Geralt hadn’t meant to snoop through his best friend’s desk. It’s just that he’d let Jaskier borrow one of his favorite pens last night and the junior had forgotten to give it back, and, well...Geralt was maybe a tad bit possessive of his belongings. He didn’t have much growing up, so what little he had, he coveted. 

And of course Jaskier’s desk was a trainwreck and a half. Stacks of papers, notebooks, highlighters thrown about, a few glasses of now unidentifiable liquids that made Geralt cringe. He’d tried to be gentle and fast, moving things aside to search for his pen. He didn’t much care for Jaskier’s academic writing, but when the pages started resembling lines of poetry he got curious and careless.

_Jaskier is writing again?_

Geralt slowed down and picked up one of the pages. Definitely a poem. Months ago Jaskier had burst into their shared room, thrown himself on Geralt’s bed, and declared that he should never write again.

_(“I shall never write again!” Jaskier had his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. Geralt nudged him over so he could stretch his legs out and continued tapping away at his research paper. “Don’t you want to know why, my dear friend?”_

_“Not particularly.”_

_“I shall tell you anyway!” Jaskier crawled into a sitting position and threw his hand back over his forehead. “My muse has broken my heart for the last time! Never again shall ink touch paper, not by the hands of this poet.”_

_“Hmm,” Geralt muttered unhelpfully. He knew Jaskier would be over it in a matter of days, as soon as he found a new muse.)_

The problem was, Jaskier _didn’t_ get over it. In the days that followed he became solemn, quiet, and distant in a way Geralt wasn’t used to. He was used to Jaskier hanging around at all times, joining him at practice most weeks, staying up late to watch tv and talk about (e.i. distract him from) his papers. After his announcement he made himself scarce, spent most of his time in the library or the office of the student paper, editing others' works instead of publishing his own. 

But this. This was clearly quite new. Geralt felt a burst of happiness for a moment, glad that his best friend was finding his muse again. That is, until he read the first few lines and felt the nagging suspicion that he’d definitely read these words before. 

Taking the piece of paper with him, Geralt dug through his trash can until he found the most recent copy of the student newspaper. He normally cut out Jaskier’s pieces and saved them in a binder he kept hidden under his bed, but since the poet stopped writing he’d taken to skimming over the paper and just throwing it out. He turned to the last two pages that displayed student creative writing and his eyes immediately went to the poem on the bottom right page. Starlight. It was clearly a love poem, about a silver-haired beauty who slipped through the poet’s fingers. He’d loved it, but he didn’t want to say so to Jaskier. No point making the boy jealous of some punk named Julian Pankratz. 

But now…

It was the same poem. Line for line, word for word; it even sounded like the poet’s style, if a little more melancholy. Before Geralt had time to process his emotions the bedroom door swung open.

“Ah, Geralt, you’re here! Terribly sorry to be a downer but I’m quite tired, can I- what the fuck are you holding?”

Geralt bristled, suddenly defensive. “I was looking for my pen.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier plopped his backpack on his bed and began rummaging around. He finally brandished Geralt’s pen and held it out to him tentatively. Geralt took it and, before he could talk himself out of it, held out the poem. Jaskier’s eyes widened.

“That’s-”

“You’ve been writing again.”

The silence that followed was beyond uncomfortable; Geralt was mad, but did he have any right to be? He hadn’t exactly been very responsive when Jaskier first told him he wasn’t writing anymore, why would he expect the boy to share it with him now?

 _Because he always did_ , his stupid, wounded brain supplied. 

To his surprise, Jaskier spoke first. “I’m sorry Geralt. I didn’t mean to mislead you-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant to do. I just don’t understand why.”

“Because it hurt.” Jaskier moved to join Geralt where he was leaning against his bed. “I was in pain and I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why not? You’ve never hidden it before.”

“Have you been reading these poems?” Jaskier poked the newspaper laying idly on Geralt’s bed.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. He’d read every poem written by Julian Pankratz over the last two months, loved every one. 

“They’re...they’re about heartbreak. And I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Either Jaskier really wasn’t making sense, or Geralt had taken a beating in practice. Either way, none of it was adding up.

“Why would it be awkward?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed, defeated. “Because they’re about you, Geralt.”

Geralt must have been a ridiculous sight, body frozen to the spot and eyes owlishly large. The lights were on, but clearly no one was home upstairs. 

“Come on Geralt, silver hair? How many people do you know with silver hair?”

“But- I- I assumed you were embellishing!”

“While that does seem like exactly the thing I’d do, this time I didn’t. This time it was all real. All of it was for you. I can...go, if you need time.”

“No!” Geralt gently grabbed him by the arm as Jaskier made a move to leave the room. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Jaskier laughed, but it sounded painful. “I did. Don’t you remember when I asked you out after your big game a few months ago? You told me you’d rather date a baboon.”

“...Oh my god. I thought you were making a joke!” 

Geralt shoved his head in his hands and cursed himself. 

“Would your answer have changed if I’d made it more clear how serious I was?” Jaskier’s voice was so soft now, so fragile. Geralt sighed and dropped his hands. They were standing close enough that their hands knocked together, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and thread their fingers together.

“Yes. I would’ve instead told you how long I’ve wanted you. And I would have done this.”

Slowly, he leaned toward Jaskier, giving the man enough time to pull away if he no longer wanted Geralt - and he wouldn’t blame him at all - until their lips met in a soft kiss. It didn’t last long, but it made Geralt’s heart soar all the same. 

“God, you’re an idiot,” Jaskier grinned. Geralt rolled his eyes, but this time he couldn’t deny it. He pulled Jaskier against his body and kissed him again, because he wanted to, because he was finally allowed to have this.

And in the back of his head he was figuring out how to get a hold of the last two months worth of newspapers. Julian Pankratz’s poems belonged in his poetry binder.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt I received on tumblr, feel free to send me any prompts if you'd like or follow me on tumblr at feraljaskier!


End file.
